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Introduction:

— THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND VULGAR LANGUAGE. It is fictional and does not depict real people or events. — Call girl, Angel, believes there's nothing nothing more to life than what she is doing now. But when she falls in love with an undercover cop, and things get heated between her and her pimp, Angel searches for answers. Is this really all she is destined for? Could she escape if she wanted to? Would the outside world accept her if she left this lifestyle behind?

Chapter Thirteen: Regrets

“Stay in the car,” Rich ordered the girls as he got out of his truck and slammed the door.

Angel watched him walk cautiously over to a dark van. The man who so rudely violated Angel at the club, was waiting for Rich next to the van. They talked for quite a while before the man opened the back of the van. Angel couldn’t see what was inside, but she could see Rich’s body tense. The two men talked more. Rich continued to shake his head, but the man seemed persistent. Angel could tell the scene was getting heated, even before the driver of the van, a talk and very muscular bald man, got out of the van and walked around to the other two men.

Angel unclicked her seatbelt, still watching.

The driver suddenly lashed out at Rich, punching him hard in the gut and ribs. Rich fell to the ground and the driver was instantly on top of him, punching him in the face.

Angel opened the glove compartment and removed a black pistol from it. She cocked it and quickly opened the door.

“Stay here,” she ordered Emily, who was laying almost motionless on the backseat.

Quickly, Angel slid out of the truck and ran over to the violence, the pistol tucked into the back of her mini skirt.

“Hey!” she called as she came up on the men.

The man from the club turned around with a jolt, not expecting others to be around.

Angel wasted no time as she slammed her fist into his jawbone with a powerful right hook.

Stunned, the man stumbled backwards.

“You bitch!”

The driver looked up from his punching bag – Rich – and quickly got to his feet, ready to give Angel the same treatment as Rich.
Angel pulled the gun from her skirt, halting th driver in his tracks. She cocked it. The man was taller than her, stronger, more powerful for her, but he was no match for a flying bullet.

“Back up,” Angel growled at the men as she slowly put herself between them and Rich. Slowly she bent down, and helped Rich to his feet. Her gaze and her aim never left the men. With an arm around Rich’s waist, and his arm draped over her shoulder, she helped him weakly return to his truck.

“Hey!” the man from the club called after them. “You owe me!”

Rich grabbed the gun from Angel’s hand faster than she could react to, aimed and fired a single shot at the man. The bullet missed him, but just barely, and lodged itself into the black van. It wasn’t a mistake. Rich could have taken the man out if he wanted to, and everyone knew it.

“Don’t fucking touch my girls again.”

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“Take her inside, Riggz will be over later to pick her up.”

Angel obeyed, helping Emily out of the truck and into the house. Rich followed, wincing from pain, and rage from the night’s events.

“Just leave her on the couch.”

Angel helped Emily lay down, and removed her shoes before covering her with a blanket. The girl was ready for some much needed sleep.
She didn’t realize that another pimp was coming to take her away and turn her out. She didn’t realize that Rich had sold her.

“Come upstairs when you’re done.”

Angel nodded before heading to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. When she returned back to Emily, glass and straw in hand, she helped the girl sip the water, coaxing her to take small sips instead of large gulps.

She could hear Rich upstairs in the bathroom, no doubt cleaning blood off of his face.

“I want to go home,” the girl whimpered.

“I know hunny.”

“I miss my mom.”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have ran away. I just want to tell her I love her.” Emily was barely able to finish her sentence before exhaustion caught up to her and she drifted into sleep.

Angel set the glass on the end table, and put Emily’s bag next to her shoes, so she would find it easily when Riggz, a fellow friend and pimp of Rich’s, came to get her.

Angel pulled herself to her feet and made her way upstairs.

Rich was in the bedroom, laying on his back on the bed. His chest was bare, showing red and angry bruises across his ribcage. He had one arm over his forehead, his eyes closed.

Angel removed her fishnet stockings and balled them up. She slipped them into her bag that Rich had brought up and left laying on the floor by the door. She rummaged around quietly until she found a pair of spandex black boyshorts, which she promptly slipped on. She reached under her tank top and removed her bra and put that in her bag as well.

“Strip for me,” Rich mumbled from the bed.

Angel turned to look at him for a moment before slipping her skirt off. In nothing but her tank top, underwear, and black boots, she stood before Rich, letting him get a good look at her.

“Close the door,” He ordered gently.

Angel turned her back to him and shut the door. She turned to face him again, expecting him to give her an order to strip further, or dance, or…something.

He let out a pained chuckle, “it’s been a while since I’ve looked at you.”

Almost embarrassed, Angel turned away, going to the dresser and fiddled with the things on it. Although Rich basically owned her, she was usually to busy with clients to be around him, and when they were together, he never looked at her. He would look over her, after her, upon her, or even around her. But for a pimp to look at his girl, to see her as a person and not a profit, as a human being instead of property, it was rare if not non-existent.

Angel continued to fidget with items on the dresser.

“Leave it alone,” Rich grumbled, adjusting himself on the bed to relieve the pain in his ribs. “Leave it!” he growled when Angel continued, making her jump.

Her body tense, her jaw twitched as she clenched her teeth, she waited, expecting him to lash out and punish her.

He let out a soft sigh, “come here.”

She glanced at him before slowly going over to the bed.

“Sit, take your boots off.”

Angel obeyed.

Rich had rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and holding his head in his hand. His other arm was extended outward, beckoning her to him.

Cautiously she scooted to him.

He gently pushed her down to lay on the bed. “You are a gem,” Rich stated just above a whisper, as he put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. He kissed her forehead before adding “my pride and joy. You make me so proud.”

Angel didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

Rich tried to search her eyes, but she knew better than to look at him. “I’d make you my bottom, but I know you’d never accept the offer.”

Angel clenched her jaw shut. To be a pimp’s bottom girl, it meant you were on top of the pecking order when it came to the other girls. You were almost equal to your pimp…almost. It was an honor that most girls would happily take. It ensured better safety as well. No pimp would put his bottom girl in a rough neighborhood or give her to a sketchy client. To a pimp, a bottom girl was his most prized possession. She was a luxury; one the pimp saw as irreplaceable. But such a position comes at a price. Bottom girls were in charge of recruiting and training new girls. They helped brainwash girls into believing that the life on the street was a fabulous one.

Angel had personal morals. She would never lie to a girl and tell her this life was easy, safe, and better than where the girl came from. She would never recruit another girl. Never would she put another girl in her shoes. She could never wish that kind of torture on anyone. Not even those who had hurt her.

Rich always saw Angel as a prime bottom girl, but she never accepted his offer. Instead he had named two other girls with the title. But he still held Angel above the other girls. She was a gift, given to him by one of his idols in the life. She was strong, well-trained, and knew how to get away with just enough to keep things interesting. Unlike other girls, Angel didn’t become a broken ragdoll when she had finished training. She still had her own morals, her own beliefs, and managed to stay true to herself, despite what the life had done to her. There was a fire in her that was very obvious. One he could not find in any other girl. She was a circus animal, willing to obey his commands, but still wild and untamed. Rich knew that he controlled her not because he was stronger or smarter, but rather because she allowed him.
In the back of Rich’s mind, he knew that if she put her mind to it, she could leave and rip apart the underground world of prostitution he created, in it’s entirety. Superiority, dominance, strength, it held no ground in the relationship he had with this particular girl.

Rich rolled onto his back, sitting up enough to lean against the headboard of the bed. He pulled Angel on top of him, letting her straddle his lap. In the dark attire of her tank top and underwear, her skin seemed all the more pale. Her dark make-up, smudged around her eyes from the day’s work, and her lips, soft, pale, only a few shades darker than her pale complexion. Her dark brown, almost black hair hung loosely past her shoulders. Rich looked her over, running his hands across the scars on her legs, faded and now barely visible. To him she looked like a dark and powerful goddess, and although she refused to look at him, he saw a fierceness in her eyes.

His right hand roamed its way up her body, over her chest, around her neck to the back of her head, where his finger entwined in her hair. With a firm grip, he pulled her head back, trying to force her to look at him. A mix of disappointment and frustration welled up inside him as she kept her eyes low, off of his face. “Look at me,” he commanded quietly.

She did not budge.

“Look at me!” he growled, warning her to obey.

Slowly her eyes raised, up his body, to his face, and finally landed on his own. The look she gave him both excited him and scared him. Her eyes were like daggers being wielded by a psychotic lunatic, eager to lash out at the first sign of movement. Her warning glare seemed to suck the control right out of his soul.

He gripped her hair tighter, gently but forcefully pushing her down to his lap. “Suck me off,” he commanded, almost sounding more like a suggestion.

Finally, she broke their locked gaze, lowering her eyes to the command at hand. A sigh of relief escaped Rich’s lips, not from the performance her mouth was now giving him, but from the release she gave him by looking away. He was almost sorry he ever made her look at him at all.

His hand still entangled in her hair, he gently guided her as she pleased him, holding her still or moving her head in a direction of increased pleasure. He let her please him for a while, idly petting her and holding her hair back.

When at last satisfied, he gently tugged her away from him before wiping a string of saliva from her chin. “Good girl,” he praised, smiling down at her, gently stroking her cheek as she sat up and straddled him. Gently, he took her face in both of his hands, pulling her to him and planting a soft kiss on her lips.

Rich pulled her close, burying his face in her chest as he hugged her close.

Slowly, Angel wrapped her arms around him, returning his gentle hug. Every once in a while Rich got this way. His hard exterior shell would break away, and he’d expose himself, but only to her. Every once in a while Rich would show his softer side; a warmer, kinder, gentler side. Angel knew that deep down, Rich truly did care. She knew he would never intentionally put any of his girls in danger. Even when he sent her to Frank’s, he knew it would not break her for good. He knew that she could handle it, and subconsciously, Angel knew that he believed Emily could handle it too. That’s why he was willing to send her to Frank; he hoped it would show him that fire that he saw in Angel.

In their embrace, Rich reached around her, and tugged her tank top up and over her head. He buried his head back into her now bare chest, inhaling her warm and pleasant scent before gently taking one of her breasts into his mouth.

Angel let out a soft gasp as he sucked her into his mouth, gently suckling on her pale flesh. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, caressing him.

He continued to suck on her, swirling his tongue around her, then moving to the other breast to give it the same attention. His arms still around her, he rolled, laying her on her back, with him still attached to her breast.

Angel bit her lip as he slowly pulled away, letting the cool air send chills through her now wet breasts.

Rich looped his fingers in the edge of Angel boyshorts and tugged them down her legs and off her ankles. He then positioned himself between her legs, bending her knees as he slid his hands up her soft legs.

Angel tensed, expecting him to push himself up into her. She looked across the room at the dresser, focusing her attention there.
But the thrust never came. She glanced back at Rich. He was watching her. He reached up, taking her chin in his hand and turning her to look at him. He gave her a soft smile before releasing her chin and slowly lowering himself until his head was between her thighs, his mouth on her.

She gasped, her legs instinctively tried to close, but he spread her again, his mouth gently sucking, tongue flicking.

Angel bit her lip. He was being gentle, kind, pleasing her instead of using her to please him. A weird act of kindness, but kindness none the less.

“Relax,” he mumbled into her as he reached up and ran his fingers across her chest, pressing her legs apart a bit more.

She tried to relax, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as he worked her over. She didn’t want this. She was embarrassed, and desperately wanted him to stop. But…oh… he knew what he was doing. He knew how to send shivers and waves of pleasure through a girl; even the toughest of girls, like Angel.

He massaged her chest with his hand, and with his mouth, he massaged further down. Rich knew sex had always been an issue for Angel. She had been this way since he first got her from Frank. During her grooming, when Frank taught her what to do, how to act, and tortured her into her place, he had seen to the idea of her actually enjoying it. He ensured that would never happen.

It was one thing Rich didn’t like about Frank. He completely broke girls, not just mentally, but physically. The damage Frank inflicted on Angel actually ensured that she could never successfully bear children. Angel had had a miscarriage while still under Frank’s rule, but it was the only time she had been remotely close to becoming pregnant.

Angel bit her lip and furrowed her brow. Not out of pain, but out of sheer embarrassment. How could she possibly find pleasure in this? It felt good. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It couldn’t happen.

Rich continued a bit longer before releasing her from his grips. He wanted her to climax. He wanted to give her that pleasure; to taste it. But he knew all too well that she wouldn’t. She would never relax to the level needed to climax, at least not with him. It was the weight of the reality that Rich owned her; she was mere property. That alone forbid her from giving herself up to him in such a way that he desperately longed for right then.

Rich pulled his body back up, into a kneeling position between her legs. She wouldn’t look at him. She was waiting for him to take her, but he wouldn’t. Not tonight. The reality that she would only ever see her as a pimp, and never as a suitor, was enough to depress him.

Rich leaned down and gently placed a soft kiss on her temple before rolling off of her, and onto the bed beside her. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind mauling over the thoughts of never having Angel as a companion. She would never let him. She wouldn’t let him treat her different than the other girls, even though he felt differently for her than the others. Rich signed, his chest almost aching with longing.

Without looking at him, Angel rolled over to face him. She pressed against his side, resting one hand on his chest, and entwining one leg with his.

Instinctively, Rich slid an arm around her shoulder. He turned his head to look at her, and gently stroked her cheek with his free hand. She wouldn’t look at him.

He sighed as she drifted to sleep, then turned back to the ceiling to maul everything over again.